Warrior Hearts
by BananasonBread
Summary: As part of a program to improve relations between the Hierarchy and the Alliance, Centurion Calivea Aetrinus of the 26th Armiger Legion is chosen to undergo training of the Alliance's Combat Titan Pilot Program and help the Alliance against their war with the Batarians after the infamous Skyllian Blitz.
Calivea splashed water onto her face. The climate was too cold for her comfort, a brisk twenty-degrees centigrade. How humans could bear such temperatures for long periods of time was a question she asked herself too often. She couldn't afford to show any weaknesses; she was representing the Turian race. In an attempt to rebuild relations with the System's Alliance, the Council devised a program where envoys of decorated troops from both sides would not only go through the other nation's military training regimen, but to serve in said military for quite some time. Centurion Calivea Aetrinus was one of the few chosen to go into Alliance space as part of the program. She heard stories of "Training Facility Whitehead" during her travels, rumors being that the facility had a 98 percent fatality rate. The number obviously just tall tales but it still made her uneasy when she first entered Whitehead. The motto "Only the Strong Survive" displayed at the orbital station's airlock did not help.

Centurion no more, Sergeant Calivea "Bone Skin" Aetrinus soon found out that she must forget almost everything she had learned when she was just a fresh recruit out of boot camp. Humanity had no belief that a strong battle line was the key to victory. Instead, it was focused on mobility. Jump packs, more advanced than the propulsion packs she worked with during her time with the 26th Armiger Legion, allowing one to run across virtually any surface at any angle up to vertical. Gone was her intricate navy blue armor, replaced with a lightweight, skintight Pilot suit modified for Turian physiology.

"Why make something that _**might**_ protect ya if you get hit instead of training the individual to _**not**_ get hit instead?" was the explanation given to her about her concerns. She let out a sigh as she looked at the clock in her quarters.

 _12:00am. Xlorae._

She smiled. It was almost fitting that graduation was the first day of Spring as well. All those days running until the feet bled, one fractured rib, dozens and dozens of simulator deaths, weeks of Titan certification courses, all had led to this moment. In eight hours she would be the first Turian to be a certified Combat Titan Pilot.

"No emotion, no words, just salute and make my way back into the crowd," Aetrinus reminded her reflection in the mirror. "You are representing the Hierarchy. Get some sleep." However, the bed was not welcoming as nights before. Questions raced through her mind. How did human ceremonies go? She isn't expected to give a speech, is she? Wonder what her father thinks of her, he viewed the humans with much respect, but is he still bitter about the war? She let out a groan as she fell back into bed. She dreaded the graduation from boot camp, there was no need for a ceremony. If she had her way, she would have just gotten her assignment then off she went.

"Just a few more hours and this will all be behind me. . ." she groaned to herself, closing her eyes in an attempt to force her body to fall asleep.

* * *

The York Class Carrier was the marriage of Human and Turian engineering. The best of both sides were put into the craft; the Mass Effect Field Generators from the turians and the FTL Computers to allow pinpoint jumps from the humans. The SSV Los Angeles was one of these carriers. Christened at Centauri Shipyards, the Los Angeles was making its way of acquiring Pilots and Alliance Marines before making her way back to Citadel Space to join up with a joint Hierarchy-Alliance peace keeping task force. Her commanding officer was a veteran of the Titan Wars, was Captain Cheng "Bish" Lorck. The York Class' role was to deliver marines and pilot's planet-side while the fleet is preoccupied with the naval battle. With a crew compartment of roughly twenty-eight thousand, the majority of that being marines, Pilots, and engineers.

"I should congratulate you on your promotion, Lieutenant"

"We both know it was only because I was the highest ranking Pilot in the system at that time, BG. The Alliance can't have an NCO as the principal marine officer."

"Regardless of the situation, Lieutenant, you are now a commissioned officer, allowing you more liberties, as well as responsibilities." The AI known affectionately as "BG" spoke with a deep, synthetic voice. It was part of a project to allow "semi-sentience," allowing itself to make decisions however following three primary directives. How it goes about doing those directives is up to it. "Would you like me to print out the crew roster for you, Lieutenant?"

"That would be helpful, BG."

"At once, sir."

* * *

 _ **Whitehead Training Facility; Xlorae 2177, 1:25pm**_

Calivea stared at the blank screen. The "graduation" was nothing special. The few remaining trainees stood in roll call, got called one by one, shook the drill instructor's hand after he put in the trainee's name into a database. That was it. No fanfare, no celebration, just short and simple, the way she wanted it. One of the fellow graduates had asked her if she wanted to go out celebrating at the Orbital Station. She declined. She wanted, no needed rest. That and she wanted to contact home.

"Yes? This is Aetrinus, who is this?"

Calivea smiled, "Hey Dad"

"Calivea? Ho-hold on a moment. . . Spirits Calivea is that really you?"

"Alive and well, how's Mom?"

"I would say that she's been worried sick, but you and I both know that is a lie," her father chuckled, "She keeps on telling everyone that you are going to set the standard for those humans."

"Maybe best if Mom continues to believe that, their training is tough, even by our standards."

"Spirits it has been months since I last saw you. . .Where will you be stationed?"

"Still don't know, but they'll probably put me on some Alliance vessel that'll be a part of that joint-peacekeeping task force, so I'll still be close to Hierarchy ships. Listen, Dad, I need some sleep, I'll call you after I get settled into whatever vessel I am stationed in."

"Sounds good, Cal, I'll tell everyone the news."

"Thanks Dad, talk to you soon."

* * *

 _ **SSV Los Angeles, Officer Deck March 20**_ _ **th**_ _ **, 2177, 1336**_

"My wingman is a turian?!"

Captain Lorck scowled at the lieutenant. "This is out of my control, Mitchell, we need to show that humans and turians can _and_ will work together. She has completed her training, so I do not see what the problem is."

"The 'problem', sir", Lieutenant Mitchell started, "is that the Turians are trained in an entirely different fighting style than what is expected of us. They are too rigid; they do not adapt. They stick to the training and manuals to the letter. I can't have the person supposed to watch my back freeze up all of a sudden because they encounter a situation that wasn't covered. . .sir."

"All the more reason for an experienced Pilot like yourself to show her the way, Lieutenant."

"I am not an instructor, sir. She should be put with a group farther away from Batarian Space instead of-"

"This isn't open for debate, Lieutenant. Those are our orders and we will follow them, am I clear?"

". . .Yes sir."

"Good, you are dismissed, Lieutenant."

Lieutenant Mitchell stood up and forced a salute. This turian better adapt, for both of their sakes. Mitchell made his way back to his quarters to review the roster one last time before getting some sleep.

"Welcome back, Joseph," greeted Jeeves, "I see that your discussion with Captain Lorck went _quite_ well."

Joseph let out a heavy sigh as he fell back onto his bed, "Bish seems to forget that I'm going to have much important responsibilities than babysitting a rookie pilot."

"You should look on the bright side, sir. Out of all the pilots, you were the one chosen to make sure that the Turian had the best wingman available for her."

Joseph rolls his eyes, "Jeeves. . .I don't need a cheerleader"  
"Apologies, sir. Human psychology teaches that compliments are a good way to help someone who is stressed."

Joseph lets out a short chuckle "Well, it's the thought that counts."

The majority of marines the Los Angeles will be picking up would be straight out of boot camp, not that they need to worry, though. Batarians aren't known for their military prowess. When the Alliance started colonizing worlds along the Skyllian Verge, the Batarians thought that the best way of protest was to fund various "criminal groups", "pirates", and "terrorists" to attack the colonies known as the "Skyllian Blitz." Batarian-paid forces raised entire colonies to the ground What the Batarians didn't factor in, however, was that unlike before, where the Batarians could just claim that since they didn't make the attack, they couldn't be held accountable like with prior attacks against other Citadel races, the Alliance declared war on the Batarians after following the money trail to them. The Turians, after years of frustration with the Batarians, confided with Alliance leaders on how they can send support without openly declaring war on the Batarians as they were forbidden to do so by the Council. The Alliance looked at their past for the answer. They told the Turians that they wouldn't be "going to war", but rather "resolving a military conflict." The Batarians were about to bear the strength of both Alliance and Hierarchy forces. Alone. Alliance military and political leaders have come out reassuring that it is not and will not be "a war for conquest", but to show the Batarians that they cannot and will not continue their marauding tactics against any and all Citadel races.

"All hands, we will be arriving at Whitehead Outpost in approximately twenty mikes," Captain Lorck declared over the PA system. "I say again, we will be arriving at Whitehead Outpost in twenty mikes, Lorck out."

So much for sleep.

* * *

 _ **Whitehead Training Facility; Xlorae 2177, 2:00pm**_

Calivea adjusted her bag over her shoulder. Uniforms, civilian wear, formal wear, and various personal belongings were all included in that bag. She looked around at the line she was waiting in. She could see an officer direct the marines and Pilot graduates to other different lines for transport to different ships. She was directed to go to the line for the ship "SSV Los Angeles." As she waited, she heard many "Bone Face" called out to her in various tones. However, the tone was no longer insulting but more welcoming. She had survived training with them. She was an equal.

"Stand by for transport arrival. Go kick some Batarian ass, boys." The flight officer called out. Cheers and other slurs for Batarians were yelled out answered the flight officer. One thing Calivea would never understand about humans. Is that for no matter how much discipline drilling they went through, they would always act in the most undisciplined matter. She remembered something her father would say.

"War is pure chaos, that was why the humans were so damn good. They practiced chaos on a daily basis!" The memory made her chuckle to herself. There was a loud hiss in the air as the transports were making their way to the landing bay. The doors open as the crew chiefs started directing the marines and Pilots inside. There were no chairs on the dropships but handle bars lining the port and starboard ceilings. She grabbed hold of one of them as she crossed the threshold with the rest of the humans. No going back now.

* * *

 _ **SSV Los Angeles Hangar Deck, Xlorae 2177, 2:24pm**_

"Welcome to the SSV Los Angeles, marines," A human male on a podium was addressing all the newcomers, Calivea included. "We will be the vanguard human ground force during this deployment. The Turians have graciously offered their assistance for us to show those bastard Batarians that we humans will _**not**_ tolerate any attacks on our own. An attack on one of us is an attack on all of us. We will show those four-eyes the true meaning of 'shock-and-awe'. And only once we have removed their ability to fight back, their ability to use their cowardly marauding tactics, only then will we stop. We will make the Batarians fear the sound of thunder, the shaking of the ground; they will understand why even gods feared Titans. All pilots, report to deck 243-Alpha for further briefing, everyone else report to your senior officer for duties. Dismissed."


End file.
